


Legibility

by LadyTorix



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, I blame jro for a good sixty percent of this, Lost Light, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Transformers: Lost Light 25, Soft Megatron, old men of the lost light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 10:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19249099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTorix/pseuds/LadyTorix
Summary: Sometimes things become clearer over time, even people.





	Legibility

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my friend [specspectacle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/specspectacle/) for being my beta reader!

Minimus still feels strange sometimes, when he thinks of all the things that have changed since the beginning of his life aboard the Lost Light.

But he’s happy--that’s the most remarkable thing.

He doesn’t really remember being happy before the war or during. Proud, yes. Satisfied with a job well done, yes. But not ‘happy’ as most people would define it. Not like this.

There are days he still greatly wishes he could toss Rodimus out an airlock for a few hours to glean some semblance of peace. There are still days he has to lecture Swerve for nearly an hour on energon safety regulations. There are still days that are exasperating beyond all belief on this infernal ship.

Then there’s also …poetry and music. Sometimes there’s even dancing, just the two of them in their habsuite, even though they’re both objectively terrible. Because Minimus doesn’t have to be perfect when they’re alone together. It’s a freedom that perplexes him.

He is acutely aware that his every day proximity to the former Decepticon commander is not something he could have ever predicted. Or even something he would have believed was possible when the warlord was first brought on board the ship.

No, none of this had been the expected outcome.

* * *

It had seemed like such a small thing at the time, when Minimus had noticed the captain’s notes during a meeting. His handwriting somehow even more horrendous than Rodimus’s, which wasn’t a small feat. When he asked about it afterwards, Megatron got oddly quiet, and Minimus was worried he’d offended the mech. He tried to explain that Megatron’s writing was always so tidy when he responded to his reports that he’d merely been surprised to see that difference in the captain’s own note taking. Megatron explained that he was usually in less of a hurry when responding to others, and quickly excused himself to finish up some work in his office.

A question struck Minimus when he was in the middle of a shift on the bridge a few hours later.

Had Megatron done it for him?

Confused, he carefully sifted through other memories trying to find an answer. Was this a pattern in the captain’s behavior, or merely a courtesy to his second in command’s well known overfastidious nature? No, that made little sense. He didn’t like it, but he’d long learned to read even the worst mech’s scribbling over the long millennia of war. Surely, Megatron would’ve had similar experiences during the war with his own subordinates.

Was...Megatron concerned of what Minimus would think of him?

There were also all the times they’d meet in each other’s offices and go over reports, or even share a few quiet moments of conversation together. But as they often felt like the only two sane mecha on the ship, that behavior seemed unsurprising. Megatron was always exceedingly professional with him. He always read his reports, and he always responded, even if it was just enough to let Minimus know that he had received them. If he was late he always sent a message explaining that he was running behind and always apologized in person once he arrived.

None of these were things that Minimus himself would not or did not do with any other mech onboard the ship. But...how often did others do that for him?

No, this was silly. Clearly he was assigning far too much value to this. Megatron likely just spent more time on the things he sent to other people than on his own personal notes. He was sure that he did the same for Rodimus (or would if Rodimus ever actually submitted reports.)

The question kept pestering him though, and when his shift ended, he felt no closer to understanding then when he had started.

He left the bridge and headed to the Captain’s office. Megatron was still working when Minimus politely knocked before entering.

He looked up from his desk, “Minimus, please come in. Was there something you needed?”

Minimus. He always called him Minimus. When had that happened? When had he stopped calling him Ultra Magnus on a regular basis?

How had he not noticed this?

Why did that make his spark flutter so?

“I would like to ask you something,” Minimus said as he carefully shut the door behind him.

Megatron gestured to the chair across from him, “Of course, did something happen during your bridge shift? If Rodimus is still insisting that it’s Opposite Day I swear I’m about to sic Ratchet on him--”

“No, no,” Minimus sat down in the chair resting his hands on his lap, “I would like to ask you about our discussion this morning.”

“Oh,” Megatron’s face fell, before arranging itself in a carefully blank expression. “Yes, of course, my apologies if I cut you off earlier.”

“Not at all,” he paused, carefully considering the next words, “Captain, why do you take so much care in something as small as your handwriting? If it is because you are worried that I may find it illegible, I assure you that I have read much worse...I would certainly have no issue with yours.”

Megatron remained silent, except for a short invent.

Minimus cleared his throat, “It is just that I do not wish for you to waste your time for my sake, if it is better spent elsewhere.”

“I…,” Megatron trailed off and looked away before scrubbing his hand across his face, “Minimus, I know how much you dislike mess.”

“Well, yes, I do, but surely you see this is unnecessary?”

“Perhaps, it is, in the grand scheme of things,” Megatron sighed as he looked back at Minimus catching his optics, “but I wanted to do something for you.”

Minimus felt something foreign prickle in his spark. His optics widened. Oh. _Oh._ He hadn’t considered that particular possibility. Unless that wasn’t what Megatron meant--was he misreading the entire situation?

“I was afraid that you would think I did not read your reports, or did not read them carefully if I was lackadaisical with my responses. I appreciate the work you do a great deal, Minimus, I always...” Megatron shifted uncomfortably, but clearly took effort to not break eye contact, “I always hoped at least a pittance of my feelings in the matter came through.”

His spark was pulsing quicker, “If taking such an act was merely a pittance, I am curious as to what the full amount of your feelings in the matter would entail?”

“What would you like it to entail?” Megatron said softly with such a tenderness in his optics that Minimus’s spark jolted in his chest. He was rapidly becoming convinced that he had not misread the situation in the slightest.

“I suppose...I would want to hear you read your poetry. As often as possible.”

“I believe I could arrange that--what else?” Megatron said with gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Minimus paused for a moment, “I do not know,” he said truthfully. “I suppose it is not an option that I have ever considered. What...would you want it to entail?”

“I would want to tell you that I’m hopelessly in love with you every single day.”

“Is that promise?”

* * *

It was an adjustment at first, and of course once Rodimus found out, there was no hiding it from the rest of the crew. But...it was good. So very good.

A small part of him had still rankled at the thought of spark-merging with MEGATRON of all people, of course. But this mech was no longer just the tyrant that fought on the other side of a war for millions of years.

This was the mech that knew all the rules nearly as well as Minimus did. This was the mech that always, always, always thanked him for his hard work. This was the mech that would whisper poetry to him in the dark as he was drifting off into recharge.

Through the bond their minds brush against each other at unexpected times. It’s exhilarating. It’s jarring.

It’s comforting.

On the bad days, he can feel Megtron’s love, even if they’re on opposite ends of the ship, and it helps, helps to know that he’s appreciated and loved, and **adored**.

He didn’t expect it.

Sometimes he wonders how he didn’t see it before. Megatron’s love follows him everywhere. In his touch, in his spark, in his expression, even at meetings. He doesn’t understand how anyone else doesn’t notice it, except that...maybe no one else notices that anything’s different, because it isn’t, really. It's been there for a long time.

And it is...wonderful.

It is so wonderful to hear his name from Megatron’s lips every day. Wonderful to hear the tone shift when he’s speaking to the ship’s second in command, and again when he’s speaking softly to his conjunx in the privacy of their habsuite.

It’s more than Minimus could have ever expected, to feel such profound love surrounding him constantly.

And it is so very good.

**Author's Note:**

> I know it makes no sense that robots should handwrite ANYTHING, but Roberts dropped that darn tweet right when I was in the middle of trying to write this and it just sorta crept in there and took over, whoops.


End file.
